The One Who Came Back
by CooLibrarian
Summary: The story of the man who married Rose Dawson, how meets her falls in love then goes off to war.
1. Chapter 1

It was the summer of 1914, when I first saw her. She was beyond beautiful with her flaming red locks and passionate green eyes. It was early in the morning, I was out on the beach with my camera to take pictures of the sunrise over the Santa Monica pier. That was where I was raised. I had never been beyond there but I always wanted to leave this place. When I first saw her, she was horseback riding on the beach, cowboy style with men's clothes. That however, wasn't strange to me; most western girls ride that way. I assumed she was from the Midwest at that first sight. She came up as I was trying to arrange my lenses to get the shot right. I looked into the camera, and there she was, with the roller coaster over her shoulders from a distance. She seemed to be at the perfect angle.

"Excuse me, miss." I stopped looking up from my camera to see one of the most beautiful faces in the world.

"Oh, don't worry I'll be out of your way," she said with the elegance of a breed lady of the East Coast. It was strange- her dress and accent did not match-but I ignored it considering she was in the most perfect picture moment.

"No, it's not that, I just wanted to ask can I take your picture," I asked a little nervous. I didn't know if she was camera shay or not but she just smiled and shrugged pulling back her horse. "Sure, why not?"

She held her horse, and I snapped the picture.

"Thank you," I said looking over from the camera. This was a place where locals tended to go, the tourists preferred to be with the fancy hotels. She wasn't a local. I could tell by her accent, she didn't grow up here. I wondered if she had just moved here or something. I had to ask ,"Do you live around here?"

"No," she answered looking towards the sunrise. " I just wanted to see the pier."

"Then why are you horseback riding at this hour?" I asked most of the tourists tended to do that after they rode all the rides.

"I wanted to do this before anything," she answered with such passion.

"Why?" I asked.

She went silent for a moment, and answered. "I am going to continue on my way."

"Wait," I stopped before she rode away from me. "Where do you want me to mail your picture?"

She was silent, as if she didn't have an answer. "Can I pick it up?" she then asked as I took a deep breath not knowing what to say. I was a little nervous to see if such an elegant woman would come to where I live. I grew up in a house with just a mother, which was rare in those days, not to mention she never married which was even rarer. I tried to think of an answer.

"Just tell me," she said firmly. "Believe me, I don't mind."

"I live in the employee tenements." I answered.

"I know where that's at." She nodded.  
"Go and ask for Elizabeth," I said, wondering if she would catch on.

"The actress?" she asked.

"Yes," I answered, my mother had a reputation…..that sort of sawed good girls away from me.

"I can't wait to meet her," she said as she continued riding.

"Wait," I yelled. "Can I get your name?"

"Yours?" she asked turning.

"John Calvert," I answered.  
"Rose Dawson," she responded and left.


	2. Chapter 2

I was sitting in a dark room with nothing but a red light to help me observe the chemicals transforming the black sheet of paper into the images that were taken within a couple seconds of finding the perfect spot which in some cases took hours to find. Some were simple; children on the beach, boys on the field with various of sports-baseball being the main one- couples in the different parks and on various streets. Some were just carnival people doing their simple everyday jobs. Photography was my passion. Putting the eye through the lens was finding a whole new world to me. It was a world of angles, light, closeness, coming together and forming the perfect sense that excited me. I became interested in it when I was twelve, when a journalist was doing an article on the carnival and let me be his assistant for the day. He took a picture of my mother, alternating it in a way that presented her in a scandalous pose that embarrassed her. I thought it was strange how the man could take an innocent picture of a woman standing and angle it into something dirty. The carnival tried to sue the man, but that was a lost. Since then I wanted to take pictures, angling things with my finger trying to find the best perspective. When I was sixteen I got a job at a camera shop where I saved up to get my own camera, and learn how to work it. Now, here I was dipping the image of Rose Dawson surprised that I remembered her name. Normally, I forget half the people's picture I take.

"John, someone is here to see you." A knock came at the door as I hung up the picture of Rose.

"In a minute," I responded, closing the chemical tubs to prevent light exposure.

"It's a girl," Elizabeth stated.

"Coming," I answered as I went to button my bright Hawaiian shirt and came out into our small house which was sponsored by the fair grounds. It was a simple house that had my room/studio at one end. My room consisted of light blue walls from my youth, along with a poster of Mary Pickford sitting tall beside me next to her movable camera.

I moved to the living room, which was a simple light green room with a single lace curtain window. There was a chipped stand along with a vase of bright yellow flowers from one of Elizabeth's suitors and a small table in the center with a China tea set. Off to the right corner was a big chair for guest, the on the other corner was clock.

On the left wall, I guess was what one could say was a dedication to me. Elizabeth had managed to display an award from the Santa Monica photo contest, a science fair award that was set specially for show kids when I was twelve, a medal I won at the Santa Monica children's race when I was seven, and even a craft I did when I was six at a church we use to go to. We stopped when they tried to save me. When in reality they were condemning me, referring to me as an abomination because of my mom's unwed status. The only picture of her years in show business was put away so she could obsess about me. I was the only family she had, after all.

My Mom grew up in a family that was a little too religious to the point her father would beat her and her nine siblings for even being tempted to go 'sinning'. Her family was also very poor, so she secretly got a job at a bar as a waitress near a train station. I figured most of the story myself, she became involved in gambling, drinking, and men, the ultimate sins to my grandparents, who still had no problem spending the money she made from her wild nights . The last straw for them was when she was fifteen, and they found out she was pregnant with me. She doesn't know who my biological father is due to the number of men.

They threw her out onto the streets, with absolutely nothing but a black dress. No one would take her in, the town was well aware of her reputation and wanted nothing to do with her crowd. The crowd she hung out with wanted nothing to do with her, due to the fact she was going to be a mother. So one night, she snuck into a train car for shelter, and stowed away. She eventually got caught, but the conductor took pity on her and housed her in his train car until she came to Santa Monica, where I was born.

Elizabeth was left to wonder the streets unwedded, unemployed, with a baby and no money. No one would hire her, some for moral reasons, others for the fact she had a child to devote her nights. She was left desperate, to beg on the streets. We would go to the beach at night since it was so calming. Then one morning, Mrs. Garza found her when she was playing with her daughters. The girls spotted her and the woman took sympathy, and offered us shelter for the day. Then later when her husband came home, he offered employment. The Garzas are like godparents to me. We have been living here on fair grounds ever since. It was a nice house to grow up in.

In the kitchen were simple oak cupboards and an oak floor, along with an oak table. It also had a steel stove and a bright yellow table setting. Also setting at that table was Rose Dawson, having a conversion with my mother.

"Rose, so nice to see you here," I said with a smile, a little surprised as my mom poured her some tea.

"This is the address you said," Rose reminded. "I came to collect my picture."

"My Jonny has always been an artist with the camera, of course I think that may be his lack of drawing skills," Elizabeth mentioned letting out a chuckle. "Of course it's one thing Santa Monica needs its men offering to draw you for dimes, we have too many drawers and painters, photographers are the new and rare artist."

"Mom," I hushed, glancing towards her as I noticed Rose put her hand to her mouth, gently finding my mother amusing.

"I'm just saying, she seems the kind to go for an artist, trying to help her find the right pick." She advised then winked at me.

"Your picture is developing ," I explained to her.

"You can stay for dinner while it is processing," Elizabeth suggested.

"Oh, I wouldn't want to intrude," she said simply.

"You wouldn't be intruding, I invited you. Besides you're so skinny, you need some food. We are having chicken and rice. John helped make it. He's a good cook, my son," Elizabeth bragged, as she lit a cigarette.

"He is, is he?" Rose snickered finding my mother amusing.

"Yes, he is, always been a good help in the kitchen." Elizabeth patted me on the back.

"I will love to stay for dinner," Rose answered Elizabeth.

"Alright, I'll heat it up while you and John can visit," Elizabeth said happily, practically putting Rose in a chair as she went to the stove.

"So, is this were you grew up?" Rose asked.

"Pretty much," I acknowledged her. "Where do you come from?"

"Philadelphia." She answered.

"Oh, never been to the East Cost," I informed her, nodding. The truth was I haven't been much of anywhere. "What's it like?"

"Different," Rose answered. "I found it stuffy and boring, but that just depends how you live I guess. New York for example is very exciting."

"I always wanted to go there. Have you seen the Statue of Liberty?" I asked with intense curiosity.

"Yes, I have," Rose responded. "Let's not talk about that, though. Tell me about yourself. What's it like growing up in a carnival?"

"It's different, I suppose, don't know much about life without it." I nodded.

"Perhaps John can take you to a show," Elizabeth suggested, coming over with two plates of hot food. Putting one in front of Rose and I, then went to get her own.

"I would love to go with you," Rose answered, looking towards me.

"Mom knows most about it," I informed her.

"So tell me about it." She glanced back at Elizabeth.

"Well, I found it absolutely fabulous." Elizabeth smiled. "You get to dance on stage, and have people cheer at you. The pay is excellent, and it's just very fun."

"I'll go to see it with you." Rose looked directly towards me.


	3. Chapter 3

Although I thought the pier was boring from the age of twelve on, Rose found it fascinating. She made me see the park through different eyes. She was fascinated with the place. I first took her to the lady-like places such as the carousel and ferris wheel. Then she wanted to go on the larger rides such as the roller coaster and the spinning swings. Rose seemed to enjoy every minute of it, and the operators seemed anxious to let us in and get a glimpse of the girl I came with. Normally I didn't take my dates to the pier. I noticed her eyes gazing throughout the carnival, beaming as a man in a clown suit on stilts walked past her.

"Who do we have here?" he asked.

"Rose, I would like you to meet Mr. Wiensburg, Mr Wiensburg, I would like you to meet Rose." The tall, skinny German with a muscular figure tipped his hat towards her, continuing his way in more entertainment. It worried me a little, considering his wife was the gossip among Carnival employees. She was the one who made sausages for vendors.

"So where would you like to go first?" Rose asked as she stared at this strange yet magical world, with her eyes glistening at the lights, music, the laughter, and screams, the joy and light found in this simple space.

"What's that sweet smell?" Rose asked coming to Ms. Cobbler, a divorcee from the mid-West, who came with her children a couple years ago.

"Fairy Floss," I answered. "Have you had some before?" She shook her head.

"Well, that is something I insist you try," I said pulling out my wallet.

"Fairy floss, fairy floss," Ms. Cobbler shouted. "Cotton made from sugar, sweet in your mouth. Cotton Candy, people, come get some fresh cotton candy." She looked towards me. "Good, sweet, for any sweet." She then glanced at Rose as her eyes beamed at me. "We'll take one," I answered.

"I've caught couples eating them together," She said trying not to humiliate me. "Nice of a fine young lady, surely your mother would love to know she raised you well." She then spun the candy and gave it to me, and I handed it to Rose, and paid for it.

"You are very well known," Rose commented.

"Mom's a likable person," I answered.

"Seems like you have," I said leaning towards her, realizing she was flirting with me. It felt rather nice, having her this close to me as we stayed hidden under the rides, I felt like a normal tourist for almost a minute. I went to kiss her and she put the fairy floss in front of her mouth. "This is so sweet, want some?" I responded by taking some. She ate it, letting it stick between her fingers, then licked the sugar off her fingers, making me watch them press her lips before she looked over, smiled said, "So what can we ride?"

"What would you like?" I asked her as we continued, with each and every employee beaming at us.

"You live here," she answered.

"So I rode everything, this is your first experience," I pointed back at her as loud ear piercing screams bounded through the air.

"What was that?" Rose asked coming to me.

"The Roller Coaster," I answered.

"Let's take it." She grabbed my arm. "Come on, life's too short, you got to go with me. Have you ridden it before?" she asked.

"Of course I have," I answered.

"Then we must go." She led me to it, her feet dancing with excitement. We got on it, with our hair flying, along with the other screams. I felt my heart beat to her listening laughs of pure joy. I helped her walk out, as she remained wooed in my arms.

"I think you should get in the car next to her," Dancia Strank suggested as she pushed a large cart of toy beads past us. She was a young girl from Slovakia, who sold the plastic jewelry every day. She'd come from Ellis Island with her father in the 1890s, and came here to escape factory life. "Would the pretty lady like some jewelry?" She recited, unsure what she was saying what she was told to say that with customers.

"Would you?" I asked as she gave us a stare. Dancia wasn't the best English speaker, but I could tell she was wondering about us. Dancia pointed to fake gold, as I took some change out and got some for her as a gift.

I then took her on the ferris wheel, where I was able to get a close look at Rose Dawson. She enjoyed life, and everything about life. Afterwards, I took her to the show, where she watched my mother act, and I watched as her eyes dance at the singer, actors, and actresses. There wasn't one moment that she was bored.

Mom came out, in a skin tight dress, and started to sing at a really high soprano voice causing people to clap in amazement. Rose watched her with amazement, as another man, known as Mr. Jones, stage name Joker came on and asked her a joke. It then led to a series of scenes which ended with Mom getting pied.

Rose loved it.

"How does one do that?" she asked walking out of the theater.

"Do what?" I asked.

"End up on stage," Rose answered. "It looks fascinating."

"They have auditions in the spring," I answered her. "I'm doing the photography for the one coming up."

"Do you have to fill out anything?" Rose asked.

"An application," I answered. "But they don't care much about experience."

"Good," she smiled. "Where to next?"

~X~

Later, I took her to the beach. It was so dark and yet so cool, the perfect summer weather. We walked along the shore, in bare feet with the damp sands touching our skin. I felt the cool breeze drifting along, blowing her long red hair in my face. We came to the shore, when Rose finally asked, "So tell me about your past?"

"What would you like to know?" I asked her.

"Have you always lived here?" Rose turned and asked.

"Yes, my entire life, never left here," I answered.

"Not even for a vacation?" She asked.

"Twice, but I 've never been outside of California." I answered her. "When I was twelve, a friend and his father took us to San Francisco, and once when I was seven Mom was dating this guy that took us up north, to the Rockeries this one Christmas. I've seen many parts of Western Los Angles and the state."

"That sounds choking," Rose said shocked.

"What can one say for one who doesn't have much?" I shrugged. Having no father creates little wealth to do much.

"Just because one's poor, doesn't mean they can't travel," Rose said as her eyes went towards the ocean. "There is always a way out."

"I'm just still looking," I answered.

"Tell me about your past, where are you from anyway?" I asked her.

"I'm from Philadelphia," She answered. "I've been to Europe before."

"That's a place I would want to go," I said instantly, with the words slipping my mouth. "It's something quite magnificent."

"Tell me about it," I said. She then went on telling me about London, Paris, Rome, Berlin, and other places throughout Europe. I found every part of it fascinating. Going to any part of the world was amazing to me. How I wanted to see the geishas of Japan, or the temples of India, or the mosques built by the Ottomans, or the cathedrals of Europe. I saw the world as an open field, and Santa Monica being my fence being made of' responsibilities, lack of wealth, and lack of opportunities.

"So, how…..do you have any other family besides your mother?"

"No," I answered.

"Your father," Rose gulped asking. "I notice your mother had no ring…." I could tell she was trying not to insult me, and she was very good at it. She wanted to know my origin, which was a subject that shied many girls away from me.

"I don't know," I answered. "I'm going to be honest with you, so promise not to judge."

"I promise," she answered. "I've learned not to judge a book by the cover."

"My Mom was very loose in her days," I explained. "She grew up in a home with strict morals, my grandparents would beat her. I've seen the scars. When she was a teenager, she drank her pain away, and would go out to find the love she was missing at home. Her hometown was near a train station. There were a lot of trains coming and going, with men coming to stay the night and leaving the next day. She let them take advantage of her, and at the time of my conception, she had so many men, most names she doesn't remember. So, she doesn't know who my father is…" I paused, hoping she wouldn't brand me, like so many others, or condemn me because of my origin. It's happened many times before, there had been many dates that ended early, or relationships that ended for not being the proper companion for a lady.

"That's foolish, one can't control how one is conceived and one certainly can't control the conditions of their birth. Why do we judge on such silly things? You seemed to have very high morale for someone whose been exposed to…" Rose then cut herself off. "Sorry, my mouth got away with me."

"It's alright, I wish more thought like you," I said as the tide came up causing the sea to hit our feet. The water was chilling cold at night, no matter how hot the summer day. Rose came up to me quickly coming to my arm, surprised by the coldness.

"Don't worry, it's just the tide." I warned her. "It's always cold."

Rose then looked up, shaking her head. "I just don't enjoy the cold water, it gives me chills."

"What harm could it do?" I asked wondering what caused the fright.

"Right, we are on shore." She said looking towards me, putting her arms up close to my chest for warmth. "And you're very warm." Her blue eyes gazed at mine, we stared at each other. It was then we had our first kiss


	4. Chapter 4

My relationship with Rose came like a wave on the beach; it came up quickly and unexpectedly. The next week she got an apartment on Seventh Street across from Christine Emerson Street Park, a five minute walk from the Pier and even shorter from my job at the studio. She would normally stop by unless I was sent out to the field which was normally weddings, Bar Mitzvahs, Bat Mitzvahs, Quinceañeras, graduations, first communions, debutantes, and just about any celebration that could take place in this part of Los Angeles. As soon as I finished the job, I went to pick up Rose from her apartment and we would go out on a date. I had introduced her to a wide array of things form sushi, to bike riding, to different plays and galleries. We would also take walks on the beach and downtown and sometimes I even took her to a moving picture. She also got a job at one of the theaters.

It was around late September when a man came and told my boss he has viewed my work in contests and salons. Then he said he would like to set some up in a gallery. He said the the theme is the Pacific Ocean, and wanted pictures of the ocean in the exhibited. I wanted to get the pictures that no one will ever see.

"Are you taking a picture of the docks?" Rose asked as the train pulled up to Long Whaf and we each got a big suit case.

"That's an idea, but I think someone else has it." I explained as I saw my Sansei friend coming up to greet us. "Kyo!" I called.

"Well, if it isn't it my favorite baseball buddy, John," Kyo came walking up to me as we gave each other a hug. "And it's not because your hits are an easy catch."

"And with my pitch you never did." I responded back to that one. "Rose, I would like you to meet my good friend Kyou Ishikawa."

"You can call me Kyo," He said as he smiled and offered his hand.

"Kyo, I would like you to meet my girlfriend, Rose," I said as I put my arm around her.

"You picked a good one," Kyo said politely. "I got one, too. Remember Rei?"

"That one girl whose parents ran the fish market?" I asked.

"Yes, we started courting," Kyo announced proudly. "Anyway, I got the ship set up for you. We are on our way. I'll do most of the steering."

"Steering?" Rose questioned. "John, what are we doing here?"

"We're going boating," I answered, hoping she would be taken by surprise.

"What?" she asked as her eyes expanded. "Out in the ocean?"

"Yes, to get pictures," I answered. "You'll love it." Rose followed me, not speaking the rest of the way as Kyo took us down to the beach.

"You should have told me," Rose said as she held my hand.

"It was a surprise," I said, wondering why she got upset.

"The boat's perfectly safe, hasn't gotten a leak in days since I fixed it," Kyo informed her as we came to a short Japanese man who was chopping off fish heads with a large silver cleaver. Kyo started talking to his father, and as Rose put her arm up tight against me, I could feel tension rise as she held my arm.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

"Yes," Rose answered. "I'm just a little scared of boats."

"Scared of boats?" I asked. This was the woman who had no problem pole jumping off the tower when the it first open up.

"Yes, I am," she said quickly when Kyo came back.

"Dad said the boat was patched up this morning, so we are good to go. It should hold us through, despite the repairs."

"Your boat needs repairs?" Rose asked.

"Yea, I have to make sure it was patched up, no big." Kyo answered as he led us to his small, rickety boat. It wasn't in the best condition, the wood was a bit deterred and the paint was chipped off, not to mentioned the sail had a ripped in it. It was doable those, good to go against the sharp rocks Kyo and I planned to sail to.

"Alright, here it is, old rusty," Kyo said. "Oh, my dad is superstitious, so Rose, if my parents ask you were never on here," he said as he led us up the plank.

"May I ask a few questions before we go on?" Rose asked as Kyo and I gathered the camera equipment.

"Yes," Kyo asked.

"Do you have any life boats?" she asked.

"We have one," Kyo answered, not mentioning there were a few boards missing from it.

"What about life jackets?" Rose asked.

"Somewhere. You want one?" Kyo asked as Rose nodded. We went to the ocean and he went to the hold and got her a lifejacket which she insisted on wearing.

Kyo then set out to sail. "Do you mind if we go out to the cape?"

"Fine with me," I answered.

"Why are we going there?" Rose asked curiously, still feeling unease.

"That's where the fish are, they like to hide in the sharp rocks," Kyo answered.

"Rocks?" Rose said as she blinked a few times.

"Relax, he's sailed this water before," I explained as Kyo directed the boat to the field. By that time, the camera was set up, and we were ready to go. We sailed out to the cape, a perfect place. The gray rocks, with the sun shining on them and reflecting the ocean, made it perfect. We were a mile out from shore. I couldn't help but worry about Rose, who still stood in the middle of the boat with her arms crossed, standing like a statue, too scared to move. She kept her eyes on me the whole time and stayed near the lifeboat.

"Is she always this timid?" Kyo asked, flicking his ziggurat but off the railing.

"No," I answered. This was rather strange, because normally she was in complete rove about everything. This just wasn't her. "She's actually adventurous. So what have you been up too?"

"Been busy with nuptial affairs," Kyo answered as we came to the rocky part of shores. "Here it is, got the camra set up." We watched as the sun stood over the water, reflecting it and causing the rocks to glisten. That was when I went under the fabric, zoomed in on the scene and angled it some more. I felt Rose coming next to me, watching me as I opened the silver box exposing the film inside for just a few minutes. I snapped it causing the black dust coming over, and making the perfect picture.

"Want to do some fishing?" Kyo then asked, coming up with some poles giving me a sad-eyed look.

"Sure. Rose, do you know how to fish?" I asked.

"No," Rose said. Coming slowly to the dock, and looked over the rail. I couldn't help but notice how tight she clung to the railing when the boat hit a rock and bounced back causing her to slip. I went to help her up. Rose's hands remained gripped to the railing.

"Come here," Kyo suggested to her. Rose put her shoulders back and slowly approached the dock as Kyo handed her the pole. He then stood behind her and reached out to help her hold the reel.

"What are you doing?" I asked turning back to them.

"Who's more experienced?" Kyo joked.

"True, but I'll be watching your every move," I said. I then watched as Kyo helped Rose cast out to the line to the water. Through Kyo's very experienced arm, she was able to cast well.

Not long after, Rose felt a tug.

"What's going on?" She asked insistently as she felt a tug from the poll, then another tug causing her to clutch tight against the rail of the boat, almost pulling her over.

"You got a bite," I said excitedly as I came behind her and put my hands over hers. I could feel an instant pull from the line. Rose started to scantily reel the fish in. I backed away, and saw she was fine on her own. Then out of nowhere, a large sword fish came from the water and pulled the fish back in, causing Rose to drop the pole. I then took off my shirt and jumped right in.

"John, you're going to freeze!" Rose screamed as I fought the waves in pursuit of the pole.

"We're in southern California," Kyo pointed out as I instantly raced out to the pole, grabbed it, and reeled the fish part way in. I threw the pole back to Rose and she caught it. Rose and Kyo started bringing in the line as I went to a rock and sat on it as I pulled onto the pole. It to them as the fish Rose's size came to the shore.

"Wow!" Kyo said shocked "And my Dad says women on boats are bad luck, look what you caught!" Rose smiled proudly holding the fish, realizing it was larger than her. I had to take her picture when I got back.

~X~

The ocean pictures pleased my first patron more than I anticipated. I met him that Sunday. It turned out I was a little bit more exposed to photography than he expected. He met with me again that Monday to look at the pictures I took on Kyo's boat. Apparently this man knew Matthew Brady, set Lewis Hine to the market, Edward Sheriff Curtis, Imogen Cunningham, and now my work.

My first gallery was scheduled for De Cristal, an historic building that was built over a hundred years ago for the governor of California when it was part of Mexico. Now, it was used for art exhibitions. The man's name was Mr. Kodak, he was originally from New York. He was collecting photographs from the west coast now. He bought one of my photographs for four hundred dollars.

I was nervous and excited at the same time. I saw the champagne being passed around and listen to the sounds of violins on the phonograph as men and women observed each and every photograph set up in oak frames, and women in long dresses stood on the arms with men in tuxedos gazing at each piece in wonder.

Rose stood by my side with her red hair up in a bun wearing a lavender dress with a plum silk coat with her red hair in a fake diamond brunet she took from the theater, along with a matching large heart shape necklace and a polish blue plastic diamond in the center that stood out, I couldn't help but wonder what costume company she got it form and what role required such a piece. The thing would pass for real if the diamond wasn't so big. She floated by my side and quickly fixed my suit, which Mr. Garcia had gotten from his son-in-law. It seem strange, out of the three of us she was the only one who didn't seem intimidated by the wealthy.

"I've been eavesdropping on your patrons," Rose started "Going out to the ocean was a good idea."

"I knew it would be worth it," I said as my eyes shifted over to an older woman in gray hair with a large hat and a fan covering her face admiring my photographs.

"The feathered hat," Rose started as she noticed me watching her. "I heard her say, 'You've captured the spirits of heaven in a simple snap.' The upper class in California are so much more elaborate then they seem, a lot of eccentrics."

"I like that," I said. She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek.

"The people here are much more expressive then they are back east," she agrees.

"Well, well, well, who knew art would sink this low?" We heard a voice behind us and Rose turned to see Walter Crawlson, the stuck up bully who was now a student in some academy in the northern part of LA. I really didn't care, I'd always hated him. His father worked as an artist on the pier, we first met when his father was dating my mother. We always rivaled each other ever since, from baseball to school to art.

"What brings you here?" I asked politely.

"I wanted to know if anyone seriously saw photography as an art form," Walter said as he looked towards Rose. "If you want to see real art, come and look at my drawings."

"Perhaps people need ease from staring at the black and white scribbles too long," I shot back. "There are plenty of people with ten cent signs that will agree with you."

"That takes talent," Walter shot back.

"The ability to go out with a camera and capture the perfect angle and lighting at just the right second does not?" Rose asked Walter. "You may be good with the pencil but so were many others before you. It's rare to find someone who can go out and look through the lens and create something no one else has seen." I smiled behind her as Crawlson remained stumbled.

"Perhaps, I should go," Walter backed out, "Feel free to go to a successful artist, I'm always available."

"That is obvious," Rose pointed out.

"That I'm busy with art school?" Walter questioned. "Tell me, John, why haven't any art academies come knocking on your door?"

"I don't have a rich father like you," I responded.

Walter left after that.

"I am with a real artist," Rose said as she kissed me on the cheek.

"Hey, save that for a back room." We heard a voice behind us. I then saw a tall man who was around my height with a brown mustache and ruffled brown hair.

"Welcome to my exhibit, sir," I started.

"You're the artist?" the man questioned.

"Yes, he took all these photographs," Rose bragged.

"But the artist is supposed to be just a boy, no more than ten or twelve at the least," the man started confused. "My girlfriend said it was her son…." he started confused.

"Oh, you must be James O'Brian." I jumped. "John Callahan, nice to finally meet told me all about you. She should be over by the refreshments. She wanted to check the punch bowl."

It was that Mom came over with her blond hair pinned, wearing a lavender skirt with a white shirt. "I'm glad you two could meet."

James looked at her confused, "How old were you when you had him?"

"Come on, I want to show you my favorite." Elizabeth led her boyfriend away.

"That's strange," I commented.

"A lady at work thought she was your much older sister." Rose shrugged.

"I guess it's a good thing I'm moving out." I shrugged. "I got you something." I pulled her over and led her to the kitchen.

"What did you get me?" Rose asked excitedly as I pulled her back for privacy.

"This." I showed her a frame with open presents. She opened it, and her face beamed at it. "It's the picture you took that day I got the fish."

"Yes, I snapped it when you came to shore, when I was going through the frames that was my favorite among them. It has the best scene." I said putting my arm around her as she touched the picture. "You were so scared, hanging onto the railing as we went out into the water, why didn't you tell me you were scared of boats."

Rose was silent, her eyes glanced at the picture, she put her hand against my cheek and turned up to me. "I wasn't when I realized you were going to be at the shore with me." We kissed again, this time much more passionately. Then a door opened, causing us to jump.

"John, I've been looking for you," James O'Brian said. "Can we talk?" James asked.

"Of course," I answered. James looked at Rose, as if she wanted her to leave.

"You can stay," I informed her.

"No, alone," James answered.

"Don't worry, thank you, John." Rose said.  
"Hey," I said putting my arm around her. "You're still my date for the after party."

"Of course," Rose smiled. "Where are you taking me?"

"A surprise," I answered.

"This is your night, yet I'm the one getting all the surprises?" Rose asked.

"You're my gal," I reminded her. We kissed and James cough. Rose then left the room.

"Yes," I said, a little annoyed that he taken me away from Rose.

"Your mother told me she's thirty-five. That is her real age?"

"Yes," I answered.

"And how old are you?"  
"Twenty," I responded impatiently.

"Do you have a problem with your mother and I?" James asked.

"No," I answered. I've gotten over the jealousy a long time ago.

"Has she dated before?" he asked.

"Yes. Why are you talking to me about this, shouldn't you be asking her?" I asked him.

"Who's your father?" James asked.

"Ask her," I answered. We then went out and heard the violins playing. This was a boring party. The music was slow, and the champagne was dry.

"Rose," I said. "Let's go to a real party."

Rose looked at me surprised, and her eyes widen as she replied, "I am always up for that. Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise," I said again. "Drink a lot of water."

Down the street there was a fiesta going on along the beach in the Lopez garden. I led Rose there, shocked at the colorful dresses and the way the people moved with each other to the fast past of the music. The women wore colorful dresses with long skirts and their black hair in bright ribbons. The boys wore black pants, and white shirts. Off to the side was a group of men playing guitars, a fiddle, and a cello. One of them was Alberto, a Cuban playing a tango drum.

"Juan," a younger girl came up to me excitedly. _"Estoy tan contenta de que puede hacerlo, te traje Rosa?"_

"Estela," I said greeting her as she looked beside me. "_Habría sido más bien de aquí, por supuesto que la trajo? "_

Rose coughted a bit. "Rose, Estela, Estela, Rose."

"_Bienvenidos a mi fiesta Roza_," Estela came up and hugged Rose, and looked towards me. "_Esté seguro de conseguir esta chica algo para comer."_

"_Yo"_ I responded as we went over to the pavilion on the other side, looking out onto the Pacific.

"What did she say?" Rose asked.

"She welcomes you and asked me to get you something to eat." I answered as we led her to the edge below a balcony where they served hot tamales, hundreds of salsas, frying tortillas, guacamole, roasted pork with the special sauce, and cooked cactus. She first took a dip of the salsa, "What is this?" She asked grabbing some water.

"Salsa. Never had any?"  
"No, but its good." Rose said as she gulped some water.

"This is your first fiesta?" The cook asked.

"Yes," Rose answered as she felt the breeze and saw the moon lit the sky as bright orange lanterns floated through the courtyard. She watched as the Yumkio, a Mexican dance that started with the singing of men tapping and the women dancing in their rainbow dresses.

"Let me make you something," the cook suggested.

"I'm tempted to try everything," Rose confessed when the cook left. "Since coming to California, I don't know if I should learn Japanese, or Chinese, or Spanish, or Russian…you Californians speak your own language and not to mention those people from Australia, who sound like they're singing when they talk."

"Life is vibrant here," I agreed as the cook handed her a pork quesadilla with salsa and cactus in it. She tried it, gulped it. When she put the fingers to her mouth, I could tell she felt that burning sensation that comes after it, which could be a shocker the first time. "Do you need some water?" I asked instantly.

"Tequila," Rose said as the man gave it to her and she gulped it down. Something told me that wasn't a good idea.

"Let's dance," Rose said instantly grabbing my arm, as I prepared to lead her.

"Have you ever danced one of these?" I asked her, as I held onto her hand and put the other around her waist.

"No," Rose said quickly led me. Then the music started, we went back and fourth amongst the men and women. I led Rose through the garden as the others followed at a fast pace as we moved around in a circle. I then stopped as Rose looked around. She saw the women dance around their partners, and she did the same. She didn't have a long skirted dress, but she still fluttered as she went around me. I then did the same tapping round her and kissed her hand. She then kissed me, and we made out in front of everyone. The men clapped, some patted my shoulder.

~X~

Later, we were heading home. It was close to three in the morning as I led Rose to the rickety house and heard a scream from my mother. Instantly, I raced to the house and found James with Mom pressed against the wall, struggling to get away from his grasp. The anger in me boiled, as I pulled him away and pushed him against the table, punching him.

James ran out the door. I raced after him until he raced off the pier. I then jumped in after James, wanting to drown him. Instead, he grabbed onto my arm and tucked it back. I flipped him over and pinned him against the pole.

"I have every right to kill you," I shouted.

"Why?" James asked sleazily. "Face it, kid, your Mom's a cheap slut, and your existence is living proof."

I punched him in the mouth, causing his lips to bleed.

"She's a whore," James said. "A cheap whore that went to bed with so many men, sometimes slept with two or three in one night. That's why you don't know who your dad is. You're nothing but flesh created from that. Ain't worth nothing, no history, no value. Your just a creation of a woman slinging herself to any man willing."

"John." A voice came from the water as I turned to see Rose in Mr. Garcia's fishing boat. She was scared of boats, but she came out anyway to rescue me.

"Why are you after him, an elegant thing like you going after some trash child who doesn't even know his real last name because his Mom can't even name the number of suspects. She didn't even get all their names." James laughed. "You know we been dating for months. I was shocked when she told me about you. She confessed that she had a doctor that was willing to take you out. She told me before we met how she was to the point of lying on the bed with his tools already in her, about to stab you when the sheriff barged in and arrested the man. That's how her parents found out she was pregnant. She tried to drink you away, too. A friend gave her a home remedy, but it failed."

"Don't listen to him, John," Rose said, giving the man an evil look. "Come into the lifeboat with me." She reached out her hand, and I took it. Rose pulled me out of the water. Mr. Garcia pushed James away with the paddle, and we left. I came back to the docks, where Elizabeth waited for me.

She came up to greet me. "Did you try to abort me?" I shouted. Elizabeth backed away and nodded. "A couple of times. I thought I could trust him. I got drunk and confessed to him in private."

"Come on Rose," I said instantly, ignoring her.

"John," Rose went after me. "Shouldn't you listen to her side of the story?"

"Why, how she tried to kill me?" I asked as Rose followed me.

"That man, he was just evil. What he said wasn't true," Rose said trying to think of something to get me to stay.

"He's right, I am nothing," I said, shaking. "There is nothing in my life that's worth anything." I explained.

"Yes," Rose said coming out in front of me, stopping me. "You have me, John, you're everything to me."

"I don't deserve you," I said. "If only there was something I could do, something for the better, something to make an influence," I said looking as the sun rose over the ocean. "I don't deserve you, Rose. I'm an accident, something that wasn't supposed to happen."

"John, you're here. From the very beginning you have survived," Rose said. It seemed she was lost with words. She was trying to tell me something but couldn't find the words for it. "You don't know how healing you can be, what…." Rose took a deep breath. "Examine your life, you are of worth."

Rose left me with my thoughts.

I walked through San Monaca, as the newspapers came out, feeling smaller than I have ever felt. I listened to the languages of the people but didn't know where they were from. I wanted to leave, go out and see the world and find purpose as the paper boy came out.

"German telegram sent to Mexico, offering alliances to them in taking back the southwest. President Wilson declares war, US now official part of The Great War. Men are being called to serve."


	5. Chapter 5

Rose was changing behind the stage as she overheard Cindy and Ally chatting about the newspapers out in the hallway. She got along with Ally, who was a sweet blonde hair girl that was very welcoming towards Rose when she first came her. Cindy on the other hand was rude to her, and always bad mouthing her. She was the one to spread horrid rumors about Rose concerning her hidden past.

When Rose confronted Cindy, she lashed out and called Rose a horror of names. Ally took Rose aside and explained Cindy and John lost their virginity together. Rose asked John about it, and he explained that she was clingy afterwards and at sixteen, he wasn't ready for that kind of relationship. When they broke up, Cindy responded by going through and destroying his photographs. It surprised Rose, but then again, she should of figure there were others before her.

"Where did it sink again?" Cindy asked as Rose walked into the back stage of the caravan that was simply a large canvas tent with a curtains separating them from the stage.

"Morning Rose," Ally yelled as Rose walked in. "I laid the mats out for the stretching."

"Thank you, Ally," Rose said as she put her red hair up and changed to a skin tight starch suit used for training. "And good morning to you, too." Rose watched as Ally stretched her legs out and put her body between them with the paper in her hand.

"What's the news?" Rose asked stretching her arms.

"You, apparently," Cindy said, upset by the audition results. Rose ignored Cindy as she tried to copy Ally's flexible body condition.

"The _Lusitania_ sinking," Ally answered. "Remember?"

"I remember the headlines," Rose said, she didn't read about shipwrecks it was too soon back then.

"It went down in eighteen minutes." Ally said, recalling the facts.

"No way," Rose said.

"Are you calling her a liar?" Cindy shrieked.

'No, that's what John said about you,' Rose thought to herself, working with his ex-girlfriend a little more difficult then she thought it would be.

"I remember, still hard to believe it was so torpedoed it went down so quick," Ally explained. She gave the paper to Rose, who shook her head accepted it. Someone got a picture of it sinking off the cost of Ireland. She observed the white liner tilted in the water, while boats were heading out to rescue people. This was the first the photograph was published in the United States.

One thousand, one hundred and ninety eight lives lost! The faces of the Lusitania, flashed in her mind and a vision of water rising in the elegant rooms. The powerful force unleashing from the ocean. She thought of the speed with what the ship went down…eighteen minutes of horror as the passengers saw the ocean swallow the ship, knowing they would belong to the sea.

What of afterwards? Feeling the rushing of the water, the panic of trying to get the people who were a few hundred yards from them to come back, and seeing the hopelessness as they just stood still. Rose vision was blocked. As she thought about the torpedoes that hit them, it slowly turned to an iceberg.

"Very sad," Rose said handing the newspaper over to Ally.

"Are you alright? You look pale." Ally notice Rose's face had became a pale white.

"She probably broke a nail," Cindy said snottily. "If you can't handle these stretches, how are you going to do on stage?"

Rose ignored her as she became cold, very cold. The room was so hot that bullets of sweat ran down her body, but she was freezing.

"I got to go," Rose said quickly.

The tragedy still haunted her at night, she didn't like thinking about it. She just wanted to move on, she never read any of the articles or checked up on the investigation on who was responsible for the sinking of the Titanic. All she knew was the victims had names, and they weren't numbers.

She knew what the men on the Mackay-Bennett, Mina, and Montgomery who came out from Canada found when they came to the site. She knew bodies recovered deserved far more than an unmarked grave at Halifax. She didn't read about the funerals, nor did she even read the outcome of the investigation. She never read a single article relating to the Titanic and never would. Rose was just glad other tragedies happened so that the media to move on. She knew one day, the Titanic would just be another ship sinking, but to her it was something that remained in her nightmares.

Rose tried to imagine the Lusitania survivors again, as she did two years ago. She knew their stories will surely pass the Titanic now that the country has gone to war over the ship. They had a far greater burden to retell then those on the Titanic. Their stories will be hunted and heard for decades. Who would want to hear her tale about the Titanic. One day it would just be another ship. She never read the Lusitania, and didn't want to catch up on the survivors feelings about going into war. She knew the wave the terror they felt when the water rose and when the ship went down. The hopelessness as they shivered waiting for rescue.

Rose didn't want to read about a ship sinking.

"I passed the recruitment office on my way to work," One of the managers commented. Rose tuned in. The United States of America was now at war, and young men were signing up. This must have been why so there was so much reminiscence about the Lithuania

"See anyone you knew?"

"Well, we are going to have to put an ad out for repair men, saw five of them. I also passed Mr. Gracia's son-in-laws, Mr. Wiensburg's son, two of the Cobbler boys, Dancia Strank's fiancée. I think Elizabeth Cqlvertt's son who was also in line signing up to take arms.

"John," Rose head turned. John is signing up to fight that war, the one she felt the United States truly had no business participating in, it was between a bunch of European monarchs.

"Rose, shouldn't you be working?" The manager asked.

"I don't go in for a while. John Calvert is enlisting in the military?" Rose asked. "To go to war?"

"Yes, it appears that way," the manager answered. He would do this without discussing it with her, or even give her a heads up. John wasn't the kind to embark on big opportunities. She took him for the kind who saw adventure on the day to day life. She always figured because the camera lens alone can place anyone in a new world. When she tried using the camera in her apartment she found all kinds of strange angles and places in her bedroom alone.

John always wanted a chance to travel but felt tied down, surely he didn't see war as a chance to see the world. How could he do this to her? She was starting to learn how to love without risk again, he couldn't do this to her.

"Moring, Rose," Elizabeth said as she passed her feeling awkward for what happened the other night. Rose had to admit she liked Elizabeth. Rose would admit part of her felt a bit of sitgma towards Elizabeth's past but that was how she was raised. Rose slowly was beginning to look past it. So what if she had a child at fifteen? She still raised him with better character than her mother did. She was in no position to judge the situation of why she indulged in such harming behaviors at that young of an age.

"Elizabeth," Rose called upon her. "Did John enlist?"

"What?" Elizabeth started, being caught off guard by that question. She liked Rose, even those she was so secretive about her past. Elizabeth, of course, was the last to judge about hidden past. That was a very random question of her. She knew that a lot of men were going to war, and John would most likely be one of them. He had a habit of doing things without consulting the people who cared about him. She wouldn't be surprised if he did. If the United States was at war, she would have to accept eventually her son would have to go. She just didn't expect it to be this soon. Now, Rose was asking her if he'd enlisted.

"Rose, do you mind coming to talk for a minute?" Elizabeth called.

"Sure," Rose said, trying not to panic.

"I know, John, told you some things about our two person family, secrets that we don't tell the regular strangers," Elizabeth started.

"Yes," Rose said.

"You haven't told us your past." Elizabeth started, as Rose started to wonder. She needed to change the subject, but it was clear that she needed to say something.

"My past hasn't come yet," Rose started quickly.

"I understand, but first, we don't judge." Elizabeth started. "If it makes it feel more comfortable I'll tell some things about myself." Elizabeth was quiet for the longest time, and she looked around seeing that they were completely alone. "I am from Alabama, as you already can tell by my accent. My parents were real religious, my Mama would beat me real bad, real bad if I said my prayers wrong or if I didn't do my chores right. She would call me the 'devil's child' if I spoke against her.

"They made me quit school after three years. Said 'All women needs to know is reading for the Bible. The rest of the education was at home. I cried and cried when they took me out of school, Mama thought that was disobedience and beat me over it. The teacher tried to talk them into letten' me go back, but he called her a harlot and threatin' to kill her if he come back. I wasn't allowed to have friends, they would be a bad influence. Then he would,." Elizabeth was silent in her tracks, she took a deep breath in what she was about to reveal. "He did stuff to me that wasn't love at all, it started one winter when Mama was real sick, and he came to my room after she refused. He continued afterwards. He did it with my sisters as well. Started when I was eight, and stopped once I got my monthly.

."I was in pain, a lot of pain and wanted attention. Any kind of attention to deal with the pain. We live near a town. Even those I was only thirteen, I was willing to give myself to them. It was the feeling of being wanted. My first customer gave me booze, I was thirteen. My parents, of course, had no problem taking the money. My mother had the guts to tell her that I was letting them ruin the sanctity of my body and making sure boys don't violate my body when the woman knew full well that it was damaged by her beloved husband a long time ago. When she knew full well yet my father did.

"It was near a rail road station, so there were tons of coal workers, officers, passengers. Each and every night, booze, money, whatever I accepted it. Rich, poor, no matter what race, size, weight, old ,young. None staid for long, willing to go to a girl who couldn't refuse. None could see that I was dead inside. It went on for three years, being out all night, sleeping all day. Then, I found out I was pregnant. A friend told me the connection to sex, that was never discussed at our house. Not even in privacy.. I was scared, scared out of my mind that I might get thrown out of the miserable life I was leading. All I could think of was the present, and how I wouldn't have a home.

"The only thing I knew was the home of my parents, and they brainwashed me into thinking the world beyond them was evil. Calling the rich Gibson women jezebels. I was convinced I would be murdered if I left their home, and went out to the world of sin. I was well known by the other prostitutes, and they gave me the little drink mix that they took before. That didn't work. I was still in panic to what my parents would do. Would they kill me to get rid of the sins in their house.

"I went to a man in the next town that did them illegally, in exchange for money. He was a scrubby man, older, gross, with dirt between his nails. He was getting ready to insert the tools when the sheriff barged in. He recognized me, and told my parents. Then what I feared happened, I was banished. I was told that I was no longer their daughter for living the life I was living, and they wouldn't have such an abomination in their house. It was a blessing really, could of ended up like my older sister who was sold to a man twice her age, and three times her size that reeked of pigs.

"I was homeless, I wanted to seek my numerous regulars, and they were quickly to wash hands of me when they found out about my condition. I did blackmail food in exchange for not telling their wives. One night, it was pouring with rain, thundering, I had to find a place. So I chose a train car. The next morning, I didn't know where I was. I stayed with other drifters who just ignored me. We eventually got caught, the others went to the jail car. I was taken to the conductor. Alonzo McShell gave me compassion and a place to stay. He owned the train, so for the next five months I lived with him.

"Then John was born somewhere between Los Angeles and Las Vegas. The train was still moving when I was in labor, I remember a nurse who was on board coming to help me. My hair was down in sweat, and the windows were up when he was born. I vowed then that somehow life had to be better. I never thought this would be where I found my saving grace, but I did.

"I vowed from that moment it would be about him and only him.

"The conductor then dropped me off at San Monica. We were homeless, I didn't know how to make a living, and so I was there, poor, with my hair fizzled and greased, a son crying, and I was in pain. I never seen the beach before, I went there and was calmed by the air and the soft sands. I saw the ocean for the first time. I was awed on how it stretched out across the sea, touching the sky. That was where we slept. The next morning, the next morning, a girl woke me up, Mrs. Garcia was taking her daughters to school. Her eldest daughter, Amora saw the quilt we stole and rushed to see me. I was holding him being defensive, and hopeless with my infant son. I feared she was going to take John away. The conductor was a bachelor, she was a family woman. She had a crossed necklace, symbol that she was religious, raised like my mother.

"I then saw her eyes then offered her kindness. Amora knew English, Mrs. Garcia could only muster a few words, enough to prove she meant no threat. She asked Amora to take her sisters to school and then led me to her home were I nursed in the kitchen and she offered me a hot meal. Then her husband came home. They let me stay with them until a postation opened up at the peir. It was a theater department. They offered me housing. Afterwards, I stayed. My parents disowning me was probably the best thing that ever happened. .

. "Now, that I told you my past, you can see we won't judge you. Now, Rose, I have to ask, what is your past?"

Rose was silent; she didn't know how to respond to that task. She didn't know if escaping from her controlled life of the high society, and abruptly leaving for a boy she wanted to spend her life with would go across Elizabeth. How will she see her old life after living a life of abuse and poverty? Would it be awkward to inform Elizabeth about her past. When Rose had thought of her future with John?

"I heard a rumor that John was in line for the recruitment office?"

. Elizabeth was silent for a moment and spoke, "I would assume that's where he went. He didn't tell me anything." Rose was beginning to walk away, Elizabeth stood there staring wondering what Rose thought of her. Elizabeth didn't question Rose's past, because she was the last one to be wondering about secret past lives.

~X~

"So, when you head out?" Mr. Garcia asked as I sat on the porch with him that afternoon. Mr. Garcia was in essence my father-figure. He took me fishing when I was a child, taught me Spanish, and told me how to treat a lady. He also took me to my first baseball game and rooted for me when I played with the other kids. So I guess, he was my father.

"In three days," I answered my head rushing with excitement. My heart was pounding out of my chest. I was going out, away, across the globe. I was finally going to see what I've only read about for the past years. I was going to get to see the glories of Europe.

"Ah, you know, I severed in the Army once, how I got my citizenship." Mr. Garcia explained.

"Really," I asked curious.

"Spanish-American War," Mr. Garcia answered. "Several of us young Latinos wanted a piece of that action, to fight against Spain like our ancestors. You be safe now, I'll keep an eye on your mama while you're gone."

"Thank you, I am a little worried about Rose though," I brought up with him.

"Fine young red-head like that, she will help you make it back. Mrs. Garcia waited for me. Let me tell you a secret. It's girls like that make us want to come home. Get injured, remember Rose is waiting for you."

"How's your daughter?" I asked as I noticed a post card hung on the wall from Washington, D.C.

"Doing fine, working for an Alice Paul on a women's party." Mr. Garcia explained. "The other day, she called us. My wife goes, when can you come home. She answers when women can have a voice and I go, women have a voice or I wouldn't be talking to you right now. She says, when a women's voice is heard. I say, if your Mama's voice went unheard, then you wouldn't be here and I'd be on a boat fishing right now."

I couldn't help but laugh at that one, it was amusing. I was all for women's suffrage, after being raised by one who didn't have a man to speak for her, and seeing firsthand how the issues of women are different from the men in charge. I guess, when you grow up, watching a parent denied healthcare and having to put X on the bank statements while wondering if Hawaii should belong to the US or not could makes ones perspectives.

"John!" Rose's voice came from behind me. I turned to see her with her red hair strewed down by her shoulders almost to her, with particles of sand scattered through it. Her dress was down waving to the side and her bare feet stood together. Her eyes glared at me with the crest of her forehead and nose coming together.

"Mr. Garcia, I'm going to excuse myself for a minute." I explained in Spanish. He nodded understanding and left. Rose and I walked a short distance, far enough to keep out of human ears but small enough to slow down.

"Tell me you didn't," Rose started. "Oh, dear God, tell me you didn't," Rose started pacing not even looking at me.

"Did what?" I asked clueless.

She stopped for a minute, taking a deep breath before she turned back to me. "I heard through the grapevine you were spotted in line for the military," Rose said sternly but calmly.

'_That was upsetting her?_' I thought. "It was sort of spur of the moment thing. Our country is at war and it's a chance to see Europe."

"Oh, yeah, there's a way to get a tour!" she spat harshly. "Instead of the Eiffel Tower, you will be seeing the end of trench."

"I joined the Navy," I explained, hoping that would calm her. "Once I told the recruitment officer about the experience Kyo and I have he said that would be the best placement."

She stopped stunned, her hand came to her chest. "The Navy? …You join the Navy? So instead of getting shot in France, you'll freeze in the Atlantic."

"If we get torpedoed, I'll stay and burn if that makes you feel more comfortable," I shot back frustrated and disappointed in her lost hope. My God, what makes her think that I am so doomed?"

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about!" Rose screamed. "You have no idea what you're going to face."

"Well, who doesn't," I answered. "Yes, I have a chance of getting killed. I also have a chance of staying around. What makes you doubt my resilience." Rose was stunned, she wasn't even focusing on me. She started murmuring to herself, "This isn't going to happen again, I can't afford it, I can't take it. I won't be with him."

"Rose, I had to, our country is at war. There are several young men going out to fight, I can't just sit back and watch," I informed her.

"Our country has no business being there," Rose said.

"What are you worried about?" I asked. "You should be proud of me."

It was with that, Rose walked away.

The Train Station

I stood at the wood walkway at the train station with large white pillars at the platform standing tall and wide, being an entrance into the world. I stood wearing trousers, shirt, with a borrowed vest and even a frockcoat, unsure of the weather in Norfolk, where I'd be training for the submarines. This was the first time I was leaving California. It seemed to make sense, a trip across the country to Virginia before crossing to see the other side of the world.

"Be sure to write," Elizabeth said for the fifth time with the Garcias behind her. She wore a slim fit blue dress that went to her ankles with high heels strapped to her feet. She had her long hair pinned up in a bun with a long fake string of pearls, wearing a rather large hat with a ribbon wrapped around it.

Mr. and Mrs. Garcia were behind her, coming to see me off. Mrs. Garcia had a hanker chief while Mr. Garcia just stood there proudly with the smell of cigar in his brown press suit and his black hair slicked back. We were silent. Waiting for the train behind my shoulder was Kyo holding his wife of three days for one last time. The woman had her sleek black hair in a bun and her slanted eyes in tears pressed against him.

"You look so handsome," Elizabeth commented in tears.

"Thank you, Mom," I said to her. She was lost in what to say. I could tell through her eyes, she was proud of my decision.

"Time does fly," Mrs. Garcia said, shaking her head. "Yesterday, you were in my kitchen, challenging my nephew at marbles. Now, you are full grown."

"_Gracias_," I responded. Mrs. Garcia's nodded. Elizabeth paid her to watch me after school, years later I found Mrs. Garcia secretly used the money to buy his meals, and saved up for her husband to get a fishing pole. I didn't find that out until after their death from their daughters.

Mr. Garcia stood next to his wife. He never had any sons of his own, but if he could none could substitute this child-man, now. He was taken by John, he was hard to resist. Elizabeth , he somewhat question but he was glad to have given her what he needed. He knew she be good for a job, and they arrange for the fair grounds to get a house to keep an eye on her. He watched John grew. He watched him play in the back yard with the other fair boys, took him fishing and was there when John went on his fist date. He was his son, and he had the love for John as the love of a father and felt the pride of a father in seeing him grow.

"John," A voice came behind us. I turned and beam to see Rose Dawson with her suitcases packed. It was real, very real. Rose could see the naive photographer she came across on the beach with his bags packed and ready for camp.

"What are you doing here?" I asked relived that she was going to wait for me after all. My future with her was going to help me through.

"I see you're packed?" Elizabeth brought up, coming behind me.

"I am going to Washington D.C., to help the Suffragists," Rose explained shortly.

"That's good," Elizabeth brought up. "You are both fighting for a just cause."

"Can I write to you?" I took her aside away from my family.

"I came to tell you goodbye," Rose stuttered. "I think its best that we end things here."

"What?" I questioned.

"Please, I don't think I can explain the reasons to you," Rose said. "I just think that it's best. You will have less to focus on. It is best that we end things now. I am setting you free."

"How could you break up with me? I'm going off to war!" I said with my face growing red.

"I'm not breaking up with you," Rose said. "I'm am just parting with you." She was silent, her lips together for a long moment until she spoke again. "John, I want to run into you again someday." She then gave me a long hard kiss and I kissed her back as the train rolled in. I turned away, and Rose left me without even acknowledging Elizabeth or the Garcias. I watched as Kyo said good bye to my family, I hugged the Garcias, and hugged Mom then gave her a kiss on the cheek and left.

"Isn't she gorgeous?" Kyo said staring at his bride who stood there alone as we came into the train car.

"Yes," I responded.

"I saw you with Rose," Kyo said as the train rolled out of the station and we waved our final good byes. It was then, as we came pass the edge I saw Rose spot me in the window. She stared at me for the short moment and turned her head.

~X~

Gioia Rossi walked into the brightly lit break room in the lower part of the nursing home where she worked. It was a simple kitchen, with a black and white tile floor, along with a small wooden table covered in white lace next to a large black stove where a coffee pot sat forever brewing. At least it seemed that way. Gioia sat down next to the window, fighting the temptation to take off her tight black shoes, covered in her thick white uniform dress. Instead, Gioia went to the ice box were her lunch box sat with tea and half a chicken and spinach sandwich.

"How goes it?" Mabel asked coming in to light a cigarette, and started reading the paper next to Gioia. Mabel was a simple woman raised in North West Pennsylvania, the daughter of an oil dweller and widow of a steel worker. Her husband died a couple years ago when he fell off the beams of a skyscraper, only having a few months of wedded bliss, but that was two years ago. She remained in Pittsburgh as a nurse and developed an independent personality from that experience. She soon became Gioia's first American friend. She was with gold blonde hair that was short from a bobbed. Gioia's hair remained a thick raven black hair tied in a bun.

"A letter from a landlord at a boarding house in Southhampton," Gioia answered, trying to speak her best English as possible.

"Where's that?" Mabel asked as she puffed.

"England," Gioia answered, not wanting to say much. She wrote to him years ago and already knew what tragic news it would reveal.

"You have friends in England?" Mabel raised her eyebrow.

"Depends," Gioia said as she opened the letter to read. She wrote to this man years ago.

_July 17, 1917_

_Miss Rossio,_

_I apologize for not writing to you earlier. When you first wrote about the disappearance of Fabrizio De Rossio and Jack Dawson. I was still upset for them leaving without paying last month's rent. I refused to write back to you out of my selfish disappointments. I didn't write to you as a way of paying the boys back._

_Recently, however, I have faced many lost and now write to you as a man with empathy. I had to endure the loss of a son, two nephews, and younger brother in the war. I have another son, and godson that are missing in action. If I knew the last place they were seen. I would have written to that person too. It was very selfish of me to not tell you what happened to your brother. Even those you wrote to me years ago, I feel obligated to write you back._

_I did rent to a Fabrizio De Rossi and James Dawson, in the winter of 1912. Even those he signed with the name James, everyone referred to Mr. Dawson as 'Jack'.-who you referred to as your brother's travel partner. In the mornings, the two would gamble at the pub. On the morning of April 10, 1912 my wife saw them come in a hurry, grabbed their essentials and were never seen again. Later, I learned they won third class tickets to the tragic ship Titanic in a poker game and left._

_I was furious they didn't pay last month's rent, so I took what they left behind as retributions. I have it enclosed in the envelope. A pocket watch, a few drawings and a rosary. I hope this letter brings you closer and again I apologize._

_Sincerely, _

_Edward Clark_

Gioia's heart sank, almost to the bottom of her chest. This was old news, but she still had a hard time accepting it. She sometimes wondered if Fabrizio survived, but each clue led to a dead end. She needed to accept it.

The last memory of her brother, Fabrizio is like a dream to her sometimes. Thinking of that last in the spring of 1911, when her brother left never to be seen again. How much things have changed. She remembered that life, the simple but hard life. She tried to picture it back when instead of going to an apartment, she went to a small house were everyone slept in one room. A place where women did laundry in the river, and never questioned their existence. A place where everyone walked, and only the wealthy owned a donkey. She tried to think of it back then, when she ran bare foot with purple dyed feet from the vineyard.

In the Po Vally with endless mountains, a village tucked deep in them where everyone traveled by foot, only the 'wealthy' owned a donkey. A place where she spent days doing laundry, picking tomatoes, stomping grapes, and helping other women take care of their children. When the sun decided when she awoke and went to sleep. When she lived in that small one room village house with her parents and other siblings, her closest being her older brother Fabrizio.

Fabrizo, she remembered well. How he had such curiosity for the outer world beyond Po Valley. How he was drawn to the English language, and mumbled what her father called 'jitter' the Americans would say she figured. Then speak nonstop with stories he had read of the place called America. How the cities were streets of gold, and ladies of lace. How the country was a wide area with land so plentiful and so fertile they were willing to give any number of acres for those who simply claim it. The land were opportunity was so wide that people could go anyway they pleased and prosper.

Fabirizo saw his chance to go to America in n the spring of 1911, when he came across one while trading in the city.

Gioia still remembered Jack Dawson, an American that was passing through the Italian country side from Rome. She was a little surprised by his appearance. He didn't look like the wild cowboys or rich sons of gold miners she heard about. Oh, Gioia still had such a crush on him, and still had the drawing he did of her. He offered to take Fabrizo out of Po Valley and he was more than willing to strike on the offer despite his parents disappointment.

The last letter from Fabrizio was in the Easter of 1912. He was in Paris, and went into detail of the beauty. They were planning on going to London. Then a letter to her father form South Hampton. He strangely stopped writing to her after that late March.

Then that summer, a violent earthquake claimed the life of her parents and two of her siblings. Her older sister then joined a convent, leaving her alone. The village solution was for her to marry an older man with three children, one of them older than her.

Gioia thought he was ugly, man older than her father that was so snout he hadn't seen his feet since boyhood. She knew he saw her as a charity case. Everyone told her how lucky she would be, with a house larger than her village and she was better off with a mature adult then a young handsome fellow. Gioia stowed away on the next train. Determined to go to America and track down her brother.

Gioia then lied and said she was a train nurse, which she became eventually. On the ship she just watched and learned as Gioia translated for their Italian patients. She didn't know English either, but she learned by listening to the conversations with the doctors and nurses. Now, Gioia lived in the tenets of Pittsburgh and worked at a house for the elderly. She saw the apartment buildings where laundry hung from windows, listen to a plural of languages rarely any of them being English, and her only company being a cat.

When Gloria went through Ellis Island, they had yet to fine a trace of her brother. She first went through censes from Ellis Island and not one officer found record of him passing through. She wrote to every census brew and searched ever Italian town along the west coast, and no one knew of Fabazzio Rossi.

She didn't know English eather, but she learned by listening to the conversations with the doctors and nurses. Now, Gioia lived in the tenements of Pittsburg and worked at a house for the elderly.

Gioia eventually wrote to Chippewa Falls asking about the Dawson family. The mayor wrote back, confirming Jack's story true and gave the name of his only relative, his aunt, Cynthia Dawson. She lived in Washington, D.C., and operated a business as well as a close worker for the suffrage movement. Gioia wrote to her, and actually received a letter back. She was the one who gave the harsh news that Gioia never really accepted.

Cynthia wrote explaining that she did offer Jack a place in D.C. since he was her brother's child. But he refused wanting to see the world. Cynthia received word from Jack in Cork, Ireland that he and Fabazzio was coming back to America on the Titanic. This was the first she heard of her brother being on that ship She, like everyone else who was told that all passengers safely made it the Carpatha showed up at New York Harbor to surprise her nephew but he wasn't there and like the other one thousands, five hundred families. She then started to demanded an explanation and awaited word on her only relative. Cynthia was still waiting when Gioia contacted her. .

Gioia's last letter from Cynthia was the one to confirm their deaths. Cynthia eventually received a personal visit form a Mrs. Ruth DeWitt Bukater, who was a survivor that knew of Jack's fate. The woman knew that he died. When Cynthia asked about Fabrizio, this Mrs. DeWitt Bukater never heard of him. This made Gioia go through a period where she wondered if her brother even boarded the ill-fated ship, but she had to figure a free trip to America, of course he went. If Fabrizo hadn't written, then he was dead.

Gioia tried to think of this, as the heat of the oven came against her cheeks, and the sound of rain hit against the window, almost as if is to teach her. She looked out the window to see the tower smoke stacks with her apartment window just across the street. Her brother's voice came to her, it had been so long. The roughnessof his fingures as he worked with her in the field, and the rough smell he had. He now remained buried, along with the valley of trees and the fresh sun.

The rain still hit the window as Gloria, waking her up from her day dream. She quickly folded the letter and put it in her apron pocket.

"Hey, look at this," Mabel's voice said stunned.

"What is it?" Gioia asked .

"The navy is looking for nurses to board ships." Mabel said.

"Women? In the navy?" Gioia questioned.

"Looks like a great opportunity, wanna join with me?" Mable asked.

"That's crazy, why would I do a crazy thing like that." Gioia asked. "I just come here to America, why would I want to be on some ship back to Europe?"

"Being out numbered by hundreds of young, eligible men, who wouldn'?" Mable pointed out.

"You do what you want," Gioia said as she walked up stairs to wait on Mr. Toller ,who's bell was ringing like crazy. "Bet you be a real catch among them sailors. With that face and your talent to cook, imposable not to come back without a husband." Gioia smiled at that complement. She doubted going back on a ship again.

~X~

"Oh, there you, open the curtains for me." Mr. Toller ordered as the man hacked a horrid sound.

She then went to fluff his pillow and served him tea.

"You are a fine women for doing this," Mr. Toller said. "If i was younger, I would marry you for sure."

"That is enough now, Mr. Toller, you need your rest," Gioia said.

"Where you from girl, Greece, France, Spain?" Mr. Toller asked.

"Italy,"

"Fine girl you are." He winked out her. "I always wanted to go to Europe, give anything." The man hacked again. "If I could go back, I would of taken that one offer.

Gioia nodded and left, she thought of the life before her. She had no family, no one to spend her holidays, and no one to take care of her when she got sick. She thought of what she was doing here, she came to keep her freedom. Yet, she never practiced it. She had no one but herself, no boundaries to extend demesnes, and still unexplored. She was waiting for the winds to come and sweep her and they were coming. She saw America as a new brightness from a self-created firmament, instead of fulfillment.

The galaxies were ahead of her, and her life was so unmapped. She needed to find her destination that she had been searching for since birth. Her footsteps trapped in front of her and they weren't waiting for death to come. She needed to seek the new dangers to find salvation, life could in any moment. Gioia came back to the kitchen of the home. "Mable, I want to join the navy."

"We're headed over there," Mable smiled.


	6. Chapter 6

Great Lakes Training Station

Our train arrived in Chicago, where we came out and ordered in an instant line and ordered in row boats where we sailed to an island on Lake Michigan called the Great Lakes Naval Training Station. I never thought I could see a building like it. It was large gray fort that stood off the coast of Chicago. Chicago was a far opposite from the beach city of Los Angeles. I found it cold, windy, and dirty and smell of factory smoke. The beach of Lake Michigan wasn't near as clear or lively as the Pacific. The waters were a dark gray and filled with pollution. When our ship pulled in to the training station I saw a large red clock tower peeking through the mist. We came to the shores, I saw its red brick grand building aligned with clear windows.

We entered in from the side, as the grand entrance was meant for officers and their families. Instead we went to the side of the building where we received our health inspection. Kyo and I were instantly separated.

Upon health inspection he was sent to the 'non-white' inspection. Neither of us knew much about health, we figured they were checking us for different things. So we calmly agreed to meet each other on the other side. I stood in line for hours with nothing but a towel on, waiting to hand over my papers.

I wasn't the only one confused by the separation; there was a large train from the south of white men upset to be separated from their colored companions. One explained to the recruiter that they couldn't be separated because the colored boy he brought with him was his footmen. The man explained that men can't take their servants with them in the US. He explained the same thing to a small group of Irish men from the Maine.

This was the first time I ever came across southerners, Mom told me their ways were different, I guess she was right. I met men from all around the country, but this was the first time I ever had true interaction with them.

I noticed another group of boys from New England acting like it was no big deal, some even wanted to be segregated in different languages. The boys from the Mid-West had a look of relief on their faces upon finding out about the separation.

I then notice a group of Spanish-speaking men coming from another train, confused on where to go. The coordinator had trouble explaining to them. When I intervened and translated, a group of tough looking white boys gave me a traitorous look. The Spanish-speaking men seemed shock, One explained that they were from Texas and weren't used to seeing white men speak Spanish. A New Yorker suggested he go speak with the people from Boston.

We then went to a room, where we all had to strip down and were put in mass showers and given towels to cover ourselves. Afterwards we were weighed, some were sent home for not weighing enough. A lot of men weren't passing health inspection, some even ranted about growing up in factories and coal mines. Others ranted about farm work, and famines.

We were then quizzed on health inspection. One doctor in a white coat was going through the line:

"Calvert, John"

"Have you had small pox?"

"Yes," I answered, "When I was seven."

"Polio?"

"No," I answered.

"Typhoid?"

"No."

"Bend down and touch your knees."

I did so.  
He then wrote down a checklist.

"Take this to the nurse, you will be given three shots." He then went to the next boy. I then walked to a room filled with nurses and bed. I went to the first one available.

"Set down and show your arm," I heard a thick Italian accent I have never heard before. It was a beautiful one. Then she approached me. A woman in a white dress with a dark blue hat, dark tan skin and beautiful green eyes."

"Card," She asked. I gave it to her, she glanced at it. "First you need the schick test, then vaccine for typhoid, rabies, and yellow fever." She said strapping my arm to the table. "Now Mr. Calvert, this won't hurt. " She then inserted a needle in my arm as a bubble rose up.

"If it swells in a few days, you are good." She said. "What part of California are you from?"

"Los Angeles," I answered. "Where are you from?"

"I formerly lived in Pittsburgh," She answered. She then gave me three needles in my butt one after another in a systematic order.

"Good day, Mr. Calvert." She said simply.

"Good day, nurse," I answered.

"Goria," She said. "My name is Goria. Next."

~X~

Rose made it back East. She still strangely found herself thinking of John. She knew she loved him, she enjoyed the life they lived together in that tiny cramped apartment of theirs, sharing the same bed which was between the kitchen and living room, going to clubs at night, drinking beer on the beach. That was a life she had enjoyed for the past two and a half years. She was going to miss him, that was something that she wasn't going to deny herself. She grew up hearing the women of the National American Women's Suffrage Association, and respected Carrie Chapman Catt, and Ann Howard Shaw as a child, she never said anything due to her mother calling Suffrage a waste of time. However, this National Womens Party founded by Alice Paul and Lucy Burns was way more progressive to making the vote for women realistic.

The suffrage movement had always been secretly close to her heart, she knew that John was more aware of gender inequality than most men. She would have understood better than her family.

Rose have come across many men who'd fathered flocks of children with various mothers. Some of them were multimillionaires, and were never called immoral , some were considered pious leaders. John would have more than supported her to move Washington .D.C, she could have even written to him while away at training and…war. She couldn't get her mind off him.

Rose reminded herself she wasn't leaving him because he'd enlisted, she told herself that several times.

She walked to a large white house with green shutters and a large green lawn. She looked at the paper, it was the right address. Rose read this morning Alice Paul was arrested along with others for protesting at the White House. She heard the British Suffragettes, who were much more extreme put off their campaign for women's votes until the war ended. Americans weren't going to follow in their footsteps, they hadn't jumped under racing horses or set cars on fire yet, so why should they stop because Wilson couldn't keep the conflicts of European monarchy a European problem. She wanted to be involved in the movement that was facing this country.

Rose went to the address the employment office suggested. It was the office of Cynthia Dawson, who was apparently too rich to end up in jail with the rest of the suffragists, to many men depend on her employment. She owned a network of trade stores along the Midwest, she was also a supporter of the arts, culture, and education. She sponsored orphanages, and scholarships for young girls of impoverished families. She was also a big supporter of the suffrage movement, but everyone Rose talked to laughed when she asked about her views on the temperance movement. It wasn't an odd question, considering many Suffragettes were Prohibitionist, and the Prohibition Party was making it an issue. That was more of a NAWSA alliance. NWP was more soully focused on the vote.

Rose, first needed to find a way to make a living. That was by answering her ad for a gallery matron. Cynthia owned a Galleria in D.C., where she many artist and wanted someone to go around her galleries and talk people into buying from the artiest she invested in. Rose, herself, had three years of dating a photographer, a young art that she had help promote during her stay in California, she could easily promote the local art.

Matron Needed

In need of young person with likable qualities to watch galleries and convince patrons into making art investments. Must feature lady or gentlemen qualities with knowledge of the Mid-Western Landscape.

Rose went through her résumé. In the past four years since she came back to America free from the control of her mother she had experienced being a factory worker, bar tender, train maid, peanut girl, fair actress, gallery assistant in photography, photography assistant, horse attendant, and piano player. Her skills included etiquette training, and knowing French, Spanish, and Japanese. It was a very odd resume, she didn't know why the employment office sent her here, but she said she wanted a job with a known suffragist.

She also wanted to keep her job, and Cynthia Dawson wasn't under the threat of being arrested. Cynthia was active in the Silent Sentinels, but would always send her assistant when the weather was bad during her shift. Rose looked at the newspaper, to read recently many members of the National Women's Party were being arrested after refusing to let their guard down in the name of the war support. Some of the women who were taken by authorities were the wives of senators and congress men.

Rose went to the address to find wasn't an office, but a house. She stood at the gate of the drive way recognizing this world wondering if this was right. It was then a man came to the gate. "Are you here about one of the ads?"

"Yes," Rose answered worried, she certainly didn't want to enter domestic service.

"Come on in," The man open the gate.

"Do I go to the back?" Rose asked.

"Miss Dawson didn't grow up like that. She's Midwestern stalk, " The man explained. "I am to inform you to go to the front, the butler will lead you to the waiting room." Rose walked to the house and knocked on the door, a butler answered.

"Are you here for one of the positions?"

"Yes," Rose answered. "Rose Dawson."

"Any relation?" the butler asked curiously. He was informed the last of her family, Jack Dawson, Cynthia's nephew, godson and heir went with the Titanic. She has been bitter ever since.

Her office was her house, where Rose was to sit and wait for other young woman who wanted this job. The butler would come every so often to give her updates on when Miss Dawson should be home. He paid attention to her for having the same name, even those several were qualified.

"Miss Dawson's assistant is here to collect resumes" The man announced as the door opened. "May I please present Mrs. Dewitt Bukater."


End file.
